King of Carrot Flowers
by NickyFox13
Summary: The unexplored love story between Mat Sella and Rosa, a romance that's only mentioned in the beginning of Mat's route. Canon-compliant character exploration that takes liberties in exploring an unexplored backstory that I found fascinating.


**A/N: The title and inspiration for this fanfiction comes from the band Neutral Milk Hotel's band In the Aeroplane Over The Sea. The title comes from the two-part song of the same name. The game references this when you finish Mat's entire route with the name of achievement you receive as the title. It's a great album and I highly recommend it if you're the type to like delightfully weird folksy indie rock.**

* * *

 _And this is the room_

 _One afternoon I knew I could love you_

 _And from above you how I sank into your soul_

 _Into that secret place where no one dares to go_

King of Carrot Flowers

- **Neutral Milk Hotel**

* * *

I.

You catch each other's eyes by chance during the rare pocket of silence during a concert of a band that never made it, and it was that moment-such a rare moment for a concert, and you don't even remember why this was even able to happen, all things considered-when everything changed. An electrical current shocks through your system, and you can tell by the way her eyes sparkle that she feels it too. That kind of luminosity connecting you to a stranger happens once in a lifetime by some higher power. It's a sign that you two hit it off immediately.

There's definitely some force of nature bring you two together in this dingy venue, just large enough to get lost in the crowds of sweaty, noisy people but still small enough where all vantage points in the crowd are somehow still decent. It smells slightly of mildew and strongly of

You learn that her her name is Rosa and she's the kind of cool you wish you were. She is effortlessly radiant, so confident that it's infection and it's a miracle when Rosa makes you forget that you're an anxious mess. Her pristine jacket is the exact shade of turquoise that brings out the gold in her hazel eyes, and her dozens of patches around her mostly-denim outfit makes her look artsy instead of hobbled together half-assed.

Despite still waiting for life to force you get everything together, you are mesmerized by her defiant curls, enchanted by the cadence of her voice when she sing-screams along with the band on stage. She talks like an angel, if such a thing exists, and you're mesmerized by every word. You two go home that night together wrapped around each other as if you've known forever that you'd become friends.

By some inexorable power, when you go home that night with her, you don't weigh the pros and cons in an endless loop of anguish about whether or not you made the right decision. Maybe she can't love the anxiety away but tonight you pretend she can.

* * *

II.

You're a lucky bastard for having Rosa in your life. You're even luckier knowing that she's here for good, even after learning more about you. She, ever the charmer, loves that you're an full-time obsessive lover of music, and a part-time musician with a near-encyclopedic love of all the songs available to you and a love of baking so intense, it overpowers love for people. Rosa's keen eye means she notices everything, even your most subtle idiosyncrasies.

Even though the rose-colored glasses have fallen off of your face, you find yourself hopelessly in love. You're not even self-conscious that she knows so much. Intimacy becomes something you crave instead of fear, and you feel like a changed man.

"Hey good lookin'," she croons one balmy afternoon. A blush manages to cross your face, even though this is always how Rosa greets you. You two just moved into an apartment that's barely larger than a shoebox, but you two manage with the limited space you've got. Mainly, you knew you had to improvise more with the scant space dedicated to the kitchen, because by god you're never going to give up cooking.

You turn down the music playing on the boombox a few steps away from the kitchen. Tori Amos has been playing for the past hour or two, and Rosa doesn't mind that you're still stuck on the same three or four bands currently. Tori Amos makes for great baking music, for some strange reason; the cadence of her voice and the simple chords wafting through the air motivates you to create, and she is even the reason you've become inspired for music. It's embarrassing, but you can't help your choices.

"Wanna know what's cooking?" You ask in response to Rosa's question. You turn to face her, and plant a kiss on her lips. It's a slow and steady kiss, similar to ones you've shared in the past where you've both been content to simply exist on slow days.

"Duh. Is that even a question?" Rosa exclaims, the fire in her eyes making your heart swell.

"Raspberry muffins. Your favorite." She snatches the muffin straight from the tin, and when she takes a bite, tears literally trickle down her face.

"Honey," she says with that reverent gasp that you know brings good news, "this is the single most decadent, fluffy muffin I've ever had the joy of consuming." She drops to one knee, and you're excited yet afraid of what comes next.

"Mat Sella will you marry me?" It's the question you've been dreading but the same one you've wanted to hear since you've met Rosa on that fateful day. Despite the small, nagging voice in the back of your head that's trying to convince you this is all a lie, an elaborate joke that you'll eventually regret, a pranke that's gonna be used for blackmail, you still find yourself saying-

"Absolutely, without a doubt."

* * *

The wedding is relatively large, despite your weak protests against it. Most of the people that come are Rosas' friends, but you've gotten close enough to them that you consider them your friends as well. However, you did make a point to ensure it wasn't lavish; that's where you put your foot down, and Rosa genuinely applauded you for standing your ground.

Your friends, and especially your family, are overjoyed to see you get married and settle down. As a late bloomer, you always approached life at your own pace. It may have seemed worrisome to others who were on the outside looking in, but you were an eccentric boy who blossomed into a man of culture and taste. You and Rosa wrote your own vows, and they're tastefully cheesy in an earnest way everyone seems to appreciate.

You were raised as a mostly secular, barely practicing Presbyterian and she was aggressively Roman Catholic until her parents realized that the traditions they had made up were more important than the religion itself, but you both decided to embrace some religious undertones. Namely, you two got married in the church. Most importantly, the acoustics are beautiful and your mutual friend, who happens to be an ordained minister, marries you with the only caveat that he gets to sing the entire time when he marries you.

It's the marriage of your dreams, and you hope it's a day that never ends.

* * *

III

Your honeymoon is a blur of spontaneity and joy. It's a two week road trip to see all of the best music shops, and you two often stop to eat right before browsing for music.

"We make a great team, don't we?" You say, browsing through the new releases at your sixth shop during that trip.

"Hell yeah. I'm the brawn and you're the brain. Perfect harmony," Rosa chirps, as she grabs some vinyl to add to her ever growing list of purchases.

"With your creativity, extroversion and ambition, combined with my business sense and love of baking….we could run our own business," you muse a little too seriously, and you've had this spiel in your head so long it's become an innate part of your being. If Rosa doesn't agree, you'll probably be heartbroken.

When she says this is the greatest idea you've had today, you're stunned. She never really indulges this kind of thought, one without a firm basis in reality. But she's taking that leap of faith with you, as she always wants to dot her i's and cross her t's.

Planning this takes so much time that it becomes a genuinely sprawling project that lasts beyond their shoebox apartment. It's a grand gesture with actual momentum, and you're sure something wonderful will come into place because of the desire to bring together your love of your wife, cooking, and music. A grand mixture, indeed.

* * *

IV

Everything seems to fall into place just as Carmensita Inez Sella is born on June the sixteenth, weight in at a delightful six pounds, eight ounces. She is perfect, and nothing will stop you from loving her with all of your heart and more.

Rosa, however, never seemed to recover from Carmensita's birth. You keep yourself strong, both for your newborn child who shares the spotlight of "love of your life" alongside Rosa. It breaks your heart that Rosa never seems to regain that youthful glow that colors her cheeks. She keeps losing weight and her appetite, losing hair and energy, losing interest in the world around her. She tries to keep up with Carmensita, who has too much energy for Rosa to really do much.

Rosa fights long enough to see some of Carmensita's childhood. Three and a half years of stability carves a false sense of security into your heart and mind. That is good enough, you rationalize as you keep ensuring everything is just the right amount of normal.

A year and a half later, when Carmensita is five, Rosa's health takes a turn for the worse. She is in and out of the hospital more often, and you're crushed by medical debt. There is only so much the combined forces of your parents and Rosa's parents can do. Right before Carmensita turns six, Rosa dies. It's peaceful and fast and without fanfare, just as she would've wanted. You never wanted this, though, and it's unfair that no one seems to ask your opinion on this tragic and abrupt loss.

The world stops turning for forty eight hours as you try but fail to process a place on earth without Rosa. Carmensita keeps asking for Mommy, and all you have the heart to do is hug her without answering where she went. It's wrong to lie to a baby, but it's also wrong to subject Carmensita to the horrors of death right now, when the world is still supposed to be kind and fair and understanding.

You hide from everyone and everything for a few months, too numb to realize that life moves on with or without you. Isolation is the only safety you have right now, the only thing you can control in a dreary existence without Rosa.

Carmensita, bless her young heart, is the only one who pulls you out of your funk. Rosa's death still claws at you, threatening to tear you apart from inside; when you think you're just about ready to stop mourning, more feelings rush back to haunt you.

Your love for Rosa overshadows the fear of forgetting, and you find many ways to keep her honored memory alive.


End file.
